


Much More

by Moonlitdark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Object Insertion, PWP, Vibrators, Voyeurism, flatmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28593258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlitdark/pseuds/Moonlitdark
Summary: The vigorous activity with which Malfoy was occupied was fascinatingly shocking. Harry’s flatmate was usually much more subdued. Well, not subdued as such, but definitely more restrained. As a contrast, Malfoy’s hips were currently undulating happily, beautifully uninhibited. Malfoy lay sprawled on his back in the centre of the white, furry rug which Harry had purchased and Malfoy despised. But at the moment, Malfoy didn’t appear to be averse to the thick pile.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 136





	Much More

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a long time ago on Livejournal. So if it seems familiar, you've probably read it before.

Malfoy had seemed preoccupied this morning, notable by the lack of any usual sarcastic comment to follow Harry on his way out the door. Returning home earlier than usual despite his best efforts to stay at work, Harry was aware that he would likely be treated to the details of whatever was bothering his flatmate very soon. Letting his jacket fall to the back of a nearby chair, he wandered further into the house, resigned to his fate. 

Coming to an abrupt halt two steps from the lounge doorway, Harry realised that he need not have worried - Malfoy was apparently enjoying himself quite a bit. And had obviously not been anticipating Harry’s return… at least, Harry hoped that he hadn’t. After all, this was not the style of homecoming which Harry was accustomed to. 

Malfoy was wearing a lot less clothing than Harry had expected. And was significantly more flushed than normal. Also, the fine film of sweat which adorned the normally pale skin was a whole new feature to appreciate. Not to mention that the vigorous activity with which Malfoy was occupied was fascinatingly shocking. Harry’s flatmate was usually much more subdued. Well, not subdued as such, but definitely more restrained. As a contrast, Malfoy’s hips were currently undulating happily, beautifully uninhibited. Malfoy lay sprawled on his back in the centre of the white, furry rug which Harry had purchased and Malfoy despised. But at the moment, Malfoy didn’t appear to be averse to the thick pile. 

Hesitating in the doorway, Harry had gone as yet unnoticed since Malfoy’s eyelids were lowered shut, completely immersed in evident self-pleasure. Although he knew that the proper action would be to quietly retreat, Harry’s enthralment kept him rooted to the spot. If he was quiet, if he didn’t move, Malfoy might continue not to notice his presence. 

The slim chance of that possibility was not enough to move Harry from his vantage point. He might never get to see this again, and besides, if Malfoy was concerned about privacy, there was a perfectly utilisable room in which to conduct this type of endeavour. Even if Malfoy hadn’t expected Harry’s company, he could have at least locked the door. Or had his presence been predicted? No, surely not. They were flatmates, nothing more. A platonic friendship, which wasn’t really even that. Harry and Malfoy tolerated each other’s company because it was required. Neither could independently afford a home of their own, so after some meddling from friends and many strained negotiations, they had moved into a flat together. With strictly separate rooms. Almost separate lives. Except that Malfoy liked to interfere in Harry’s life more than was welcome. Malfoy enjoyed passing judgement on Harry’s choices, but would not permit Harry to suggest something as mundane as which type of milk would best grace their refrigerator. Whole milk was clearly a better choice than skimmed, but Malfoy’s trim figure needed to be protected at all costs.

And finally, Harry could appreciate why. It would be nothing short of a travesty to allow any of the gorgeousness on that rug to be ruined by excess fat. Malfoy was a lot more toned than Harry had given him credit for. In fact, there was generally a lot more of Malfoy than Harry had previously realised. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Not that he was trying very hard. And it wasn’t just the sight of the arched back or the thick erection bobbing above Malfoy's flat stomach, or even all the sweaty, radiant skin that held Harry captivated - it was the sizeable portion of vibrator currently sliding in and out of Malfoy’s anus. Malfoy’s strong fist was set in a solid grip around a black handle which was steadily moving to and from his pert arse. From this angle, Harry could see the straining circle of muscle pull out and push in with every stroke.

Anxious to keep his presence secret a little longer, he clamped his bottom lip between his teeth, ensuring that the only sounds in the room were coming from Malfoy. Erotic, quivering, panting breaths of which Harry was determined to hear every one. He allowed himself to stare unrestrainedly at the enticing convergence of flesh and silicon as the steady pace continued. 

Harry doubted whether he would be displaying such regularity and control with that thick shaft stretching his own body. He would probably give into the temptation to haphazardly pump the length into himself, fighting to reach his orgasm as quickly and roughly as possible. But Harry did enjoy it rough. He liked to be moulded and pinned to his lover’s whim, held down and simply taken until he and his partner were sated. Not that Harry had actually had a partner to mould him of late. His right hand had been in charge of his pleasure for the last few months. That same appendage began to move as Harry viewed the scene, rubbing his palm along the thickening erection constrained within his trousers. But wanking off to the sight of his obliviously masturbating living companion was hardly good etiquette. Malfoy would be appalled. Harry diligently moved his hand to the side, clenching his fist in frustration. 

The steady pace of penetration began to increase in speed. And (unbelievably to Harry), in depth. How Malfoy was accommodating the length and girth of the appliance was a source of wonder. It was just so… _large_. Oh, he longed to take grasp of that handle and experiment with domination of this event. Harry craved to bend Malfoy’s body to his will, or perhaps have Malfoy bend him to his.

The thrusting stopped. Ceased completely just when Harry had suspected that Malfoy had to be nearing orgasm. Disappointed but intrigued, he watched closely as Malfoy changed the position of his grip - the hand shifted slightly, freeing a thumb just enough to sweep firmly over a tiny switch at the bottom of the appliance.

Malfoy’s guttural groan thankfully concealed Harry’s stifled gasp as the vibrator began to hum.

Harry lost the battle against his twitching hand when Malfoy settled his arse against the rug, vibrator still deeply in place. Spread buttocks pushed down against the humming mass as Malfoy’s own right hand focussed entirely on stroking the length of his wet cock. Harry couldn’t hold out any longer. His hand shoved under the waistband of his trousers, taking assertive grasp of his neglected erection as Malfoy's hips rocked. 

Malfoy set the tempo for both his own fucking and Harry’s gliding fist. Becoming faster, less controlled. Erratic, shaky strokes, infused with an air of desperation, from both of them.

Bare toes curled into the pile at the same moment that creamy spurts burst from the tip of Malfoy’s cock. Harry watched it all; the clenching of so many muscles in unison, the almost pained expression and the gradual release of tension throughout that sublimely exposed body until Malfoy slumped down, apparently exhausted, into the soft, welcoming pile.

Harry hadn’t come. He hadn’t yet crossed that line. Wouldn’t cross it. But the line fizzled into non-existence as he took a retreating step and the floorboard creaked.

Malfoy’s weary eyelids unhurriedly opened. 

Harry’s mortification faded into excitement when Malfoy whispered. Dizzy with lust, Harry wasn’t certain exactly what had been said, even as it was repeated. But as Malfoy slowly eased the vibrator from his body, those same eyes narrowed but pleading, it was unmistakably an invitation.


End file.
